Taken
by Chrissy0Chris
Summary: AJ has tasted death, and it left a bitterness in his mouth. He's not sure why Jake and Jesse had to die but he got a second chance. The only person around as broken as he is their sister Jillian. And he may have the cops on his ass. AJxOC Read&Review!
1. I

**I**

_'God picked the right fucking day to make it rain in Los Angeles.'_

As AJ stood in the light drizzle, holding his black porkpie hat against his chest, he thought about holes. He was staring down at two gaping holes, which would soon contain two of his best friends, whose caskets had been closed during the services because their bodies were so full of holes. He thought about the holes in his abdomen and the dull aching they emitted even now… His life had been one dull-aching hole for the past two weeks. Though he had been brought back into the land of the living by an AED machine, after being clinically dead for over a minute, his meals tasted bland. It was like somebody flipped a visor over the California sun. Television, music, alcohol, masturbation- it was all so… empty. Joyless. What was the point? Shit happens, then, you die.

He stared into the holes that would contain the broken shells of Jake and Jesse Attica forevermore… And when the thought of it began to make him sick to his stomach, his eyes traveled across the hungry rectangles and into a second pair of empty holes. They were contained in the face of Jillian Attica.

"Baby Girl," her brothers called her as if it were her name, and sometimes, "BG." AJ couldn't help but notice how she was so unlike a baby. Jillian was the youngest Attica sibling at twenty years old, following Jesse by a couple of years. As he studied her, she didn't even look twenty. To the untrained eye, maybe she looked her tender age, but to someone with an eye as discerning as AJ's, it was obvious that her youth was dead. At least, it was now.

Tears dripped from her eyes like water from a leaking faucet, but her face was empty, as though her body was crying but her mind wasn't even in the graveyard. Her mother wept and wailed beside her like a child who fell from her bicycle. Jillian remained stony and silent. She was the winner of AJ's deepest sympathy.

There was a hand on his shoulder, and a deep, accented voice.

"All right, mate?"

He turned to Gordon with a quick smile and lied.

"Yeah. I'm good."

_'Awkward.'_

That word- that _feeling _popped up in AJ's head several times during his short stay at the repast. Mrs. Jolene Attica was not particularly jazzed about the fact that he, Gordon and John showed up, but she was far too proper and far too Christian to show her disdain. For this, AJ was grateful, but a part of him wished that someone would throw him out so he could have an excuse to escape the awkwardness.

"We are all very close to your sons… Losing them is, well, losing part of our family…"

Gordon continued and AJ nodded, taking a mental note of the accusation behind Mrs. Attica's polite front. She blamed these three men for the deaths of her son. She had a point. AJ continued to nod and smile solemnly, agreeing with Gordon's words, which were lost somewhere between his own thoughts and the dull murmur in the room. The murmur suddenly halted.

"How _dare_ you?"

The words were bellowed. The voice was female. AJ thought for a moment that Mrs. Attica had let her thoughts slip accidentally into words, but his theory shattered when her head turned toward the kitchen, wearing a look of utter horror.

Jillian Attica was damn-near cornering a squat elderly woman. Her fists were clenched and trembling. AJ couldn't see her face, as her back was turned, but the look on the old woman's face was enough to make his heart jump. It seemed a possibility that Jillian might pull out a gun.

"I only meant-"

The old woman's humble defense was cut short.

"_'Live by the sword, die by the sword'_? What did you mean? WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU MEAN? My brothers' graves aren't even covered. You're in OUR house that THEY built, eating OUR food, and you have the NERVE to insinuate that they didn't deserve to be alive? Oh, I know what you meant, you old bitch."

There was violence in the girl's footsteps as she began to close the gap between her body and the dumbstruck old woman's.

Mrs. Attica cried out in horror, "Jillian! Baby-"

"Now get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Gordon, John and a man AJ didn't recognize had already begun to restrain the flailing girl by the time he realized he hadn't created the situation in his head. Jillian was short, but had heft to her body, which made holding her back difficult for the three who dared try.

AJ felt his feet move, his body shift between the two women and his hands grip Jillian's soft, round shoulders. It wasn't until he was staring into the emptiness in her eyes that he realized he had made the conscious decision to move, and that it wasn't some force willing him. He was slightly alarmed that a face so round and cherubic could wear an expression other than one of joviality.

"Jillian! Jilli- Jillian-"

For a short while, Jillian attempted to look past AJ's shoulder at her target but his height thwarted her and his gentle shaking distracted her and she at last met his eyes.

"It's okay, all right? It's okay."

AJ's long arms wrapped around the girl's shoulders in a way that felt alien to him, but the right thing to do. John, Gordon, and their helper gently released Jillian into AJ's care. She was weeping again and everyone was staring at them.

"Go on. Get her out of 'ere, mate," Gordan nodded, giving AJ the verbal nudge necessary for him to lead Jillian out the door, but not before forgetting to pick up her coat off the couch.

She walked ahead of him in the downpour, not missing her coat, barely even aware that he was following her down the street. Her mane of curls wilted quickly in the rain.

"Uhm- Don't you want your coat?"

She halted but didn't turn around.

AJ approached her tentatively, fanning out her coat like a matador's cape. The rain had beat its way around his porkpie hat, and splattered him in the face, blurring his vision. He was disoriented and his bullet wounds ached, his suit jacket did little against the rain and he was cursing himself for jumping in and accepting the role of consoler. He was bad at it and it made him uncomfortable.

_'Fuck you, G,'_ he thought as he draped the coat over Jillian's shoulders, _'You've got a sister. You should be doing this sh-' _

"Whoa," he said softly, his own voice breaking his train of thought.

Jillian's arms were wrapped around his middle and she'd buried her face in his armpit. She wailed the way her mother had at the funeral. His arms settled cautiously around her body. She was soft, almost plush. He squeezed her and felt suddenly at ease.

"It's okay… It's gonna be okay."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He hated to lie to her. He knew people who lose half their family in a blaze of bullets tend not to be okay ever again.

AJ was well aware that since John Attica received his fifteen-year sentence for armed robbery his eldest son, Jake had become the man of the Attica household. He acted as Jillian's father for as long as she could remember. And Jesse, well, he was her best friend.

Several autumns ago, after Jesse's first job, AJ walked in on him nursing an open jewelry box. Diamond earrings. Real diamonds. Big diamonds. AJ smirked at him, teasing.

"Whoa, look at those boulders! What, you got yourself a girlfriend or something? That must be some primo pussy."

"Nah, man," Jesse grinned, "They're for Baby Girl. For her birthday."

AJ shook his head, chuckling.

"Keep spoiling that kid, man, you're gonna train her to be a gold-digger. Some poor fucker's gonna break his bank trying to keep up with big brother."

Jesse looked up at AJ with a grin.

"Wait'll you see what Jake got her."

AJ's hand gently brushed against one of the diamond studs. He didn't even realize he was doing it.

Jillian's low, shaky voice broke his reverie.

"Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah. Sure we can."

Arm around her waist, like he was escorting her on a date, he led her to where he had parked across the street.

The ride was silent. AJ smoked, occasionally glancing at Jillian from the corner of his eye. Her head rested against the window, leaving a little wet mark on the few occasions she'd moved it. Her makeup was smudged. The ends of her hair had begun to frizz as they dried. She looked almost like an escaped mental patient who got robbed a Dress Barn. AJ smirked a little at this thought. Her eyes fixed on him in a way that made him feel guilty for smiling, and he sobered.

"So… How's school?"

"It's fine…" she said barely audibly, removing her eyes from his face.

She was silent a while before she turned back to him.

"Do you have any weed?"

The night breeze rolling in the car windows was cool and delicious and dewy. It chilled their bones a bit through their damp clothes, but they barely noticed. The smoke from their kush made dragons and puppies and choo-choo trains that distracted them from cold and from the silence between them.

"I didn't know you smoked weed, a good girl like you," AJ grinned when they were halfway through their wine-flavored dutch.

The thought was suddenly hilarious to him.

Jillian took it, puffing, allowing it to mellow in her lungs before exhaling her words along with the smoke: "Why would you? You don't know anything about me."

The comment wasn't snide, but matter-of-fact.

AJ replied, "To the contrary. I know a lot about you. Your brothers talked about you non-stop."

Jillian peaked an eyebrow.

"Oh? What exactly do you know about me?"

He thought about it. Most of the information had passed through his ears the way the smoke drifted from the car. Some of it stuck, though.

"You're a sophomore. You go to school in Philly. You study, what, movie-writing or something?"

"Screenwriting and Playwriting," she corrected, looking drearily out the window.

"Your favorite colors are pink and blue," he grinned, impressed with himself.

"Actually… They're black and purple."

AJ frowned.

"Jake said they were pink and blue. I remember _specifically_ because I was helping him pick out a laptop for you last year."

"They were pink and blue when I was younger. Mid-way through high school, they changed… Jake never caught up, but Jesse knew."

She already seemed bored with this game, so AJ digressed. But she continued.

"I bet the Baby Girl my brothers knew wouldn't have threatened an old lady, either…"

AJ sighed, trying not to let on that the situation had freaked him out, failing.

"You're going through a lot of shit. She should have kept her mouth shut about your brothers. It was disrespectful."

She mused softly, smiling a sad little smile, "Jake would've given me an earful…"

AJ silently agreed before turning to her with a grin.

"But Jesse would have thought it was fucking hilarious."

They shared a laugh, genuine, but still hollow. A bit of silence followed.

"Everyone thinks I'm a crazy person," she smirked suddenly, as though the thought amused her.

"No, they don't."

She turned to him, knowing he knew that wasn't true.

"Don't they?"

"Well…" he squirmed a little, "not me."

She searched his face for insincerity but could find none. AJ searched her face as well. Her features were relaxed, but she still appeared empty.

He briefly thought about kissing her.

"I should get you home."

Doused in air freshener, they took their long, wispy strides toward the Attica house. AJ hadn't noticed that the two cars between which he parallel parked belonged to Gordon and John. Their presence on Mrs. Attica's front porch surprised him more than it would have, had he been sober.

"Hey," he grinned.

John and Gordon exchanged knowing looks before Gordon addressed Jillian, asking for the both of them, "You all right, love?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you."

He nodded.

"You ever need anything, your mum's got all three of our numbers in there. Put 'em in your phone. Don't hesitate to call, you hear?"

She nodded.

"Thanks."

AJ watched her drift inside. She was like a ghost.

_'Ghost,'_ he thought, _'you fucker. You did this to this poor girl.'_


	2. II

**II**

"Please pick the fuck up…" Jillian muttered to her phone.

There was ringing on the line, long ringing, and she had made up her mind that if he didn't pick up on the first try, she would not call again- _any_ of them. Plenty of people had told her that if she ever needed anything, she can call on them. Many had neglected to leave any contact information to support their promises, but at least Jake and Jesse's friends had. That had to mean either they were sincere or just great at bullshitting. Neither would surprise her.

Though she'd met all three of the men before on several occasions, she picked AJ's number from the list her mother had filed away in a side table drawer. He was the one to defuse her at the repast, and she was grateful. The last place she wanted to be was prison.

When she would visit her brothers, and they were "working", AJ was the one who would nod a greeting at her and continue about his business- drawing plans or whatever it was he did, sometimes counting money. Gordon and John had a tendency to go rigid, casually rise and block their work-area with their bodies, and try to make small-talk. It was almost as if they didn't want to taint Jake and Jesse's Baby Girl, who just so happened to know exactly what it was her brothers did, and was no stranger to crime or prison. They were trying to shield Jillian- who could count the items she owned that were bought with clean money on her hands, whose father had been in prison since she was five, whose college tuition was being paid by that St. Louis job a couple years back. And for what? They were no blood of hers. Her "innocence" was none of their concern. AJ just continued about his business, puffing his cigarettes, rolling up his sleeves, mulling over his beautifully orchestrated illegal activities. She became a piece of furniture in the room. She appreciated that.

"Yo."

His voice, as low and cool as it was, almost startled her. She had forgotten she was holding the phone to her ear.

"Uhm, h-hi. AJ?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Jillian."

"Who?"

He sounded groggy, disoriented. She checked the clock. It was after three in the afternoon.

Trying to shake off last night's fifth of whiskey, he sighed, "Ah… BG. I'm sorry. I'm a little hung-over."

She appreciated his bluntness.

"Uhm, it's okay. Sorry to bother you…"

"You're not. What's up? Are you all right?"

She thought about it for a short moment. "I need a shoulder to cry on" would sound way too corny. "I haven't been able to sleep and last night I wept so hard that I barfed" would be too much. She regretted not thinking about this before calling him.

"I just wanted to ask… where do you get your weed from?"

There was a sigh on the other end and then a chuckle.

"It's this Jamaican shit… I'm not trying to turn you into a pothead or anything…"

"Trust me, too late for that."

She had only smoked marijuana three times before.

"You know… If you want to talk… You don't _have_ to smoke to cope with all this. I just wanted to mellow you out the other day so you wouldn't kill that old lady."

"Well, that's okay. I'll just get my stuff from my regular guy. He's Jamaican too."

Jillian didn't have a regular guy.

There was another sigh.

"How about I pick you up?"

She was taken aback.

"Uhm…sure."

"Inebriation isn't very much fun alone… Six?"

"Huh?"

"Can I come around six?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

"All right. See you later."

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, AJ?"

He spoke the words to himself, but he could see them coming from Jake's lips. Jesse's lips. Even Gordon's and John's.

He and Rahway had the same conversation the night of funeral.

"You got her high?"

"Fuck, man, she asked."

"She's Jake and Jesse's little sister."

AJ rolled his eyes.

"She's twenty. You and I have fucked girls younger than her."

John sighed.

"It's not about that man. You know how they felt about their Baby Girl. They'd be flipping shits-"

"Yeah, well, they're not flipping anything anymore," AJ snapped.

John Rahway was silent more often than not, and his crew was used to it, but the silence that followed made AJ squirm.

"What was I supposed to do, man," AJ defended, "let her maul that old lady? I had to let her mellow."

He paused for a response, but when he receive none, he continued, "I was thinking on my feet. You know- I don't get why you and G fucking put me on the spot like that. What the hell was _I_ supposed to do? Don't complain, all right, because you two didn't do shit but push her off on me."

He was huffing, and his face was burning, and he didn't know why.

"You jumped in it, man," John sighed finally, sipping his scotch before adding, "Besides. She likes you."

AJ's cigarette was burning out. He hadn't puffed it in a couple minutes. He was driving over to the Attica household, to pick up his dead friends' sister- their precious Baby Girl- with the intention of feeding her pot and alcohol. He told himself over and over that she would do those things anyway. He told himself that to let her drink and smoke by herself, or with some skeevy dealer would be irresponsible. She would end up dead somehow, and poor, Christian Mrs. Attica would lose her third child and it would be his fault, all because he didn't take the time to indulge her…to watch over her.

These thoughts failed to drown out the real reason he was going to get Jillian Attica wasted that night. Inebriation isn't very much fun alone. Drinking, smoking, cocaine, bar-sluts… Two weeks crammed full of all of that shit and he felt nothing but the negative space. Jillian Attica was full of negative space. AJ abandoned all his Princeton knowledge, exchanging it for hope that perhaps, maybe just this once, nothing plus nothing would equal _something_.

He texted her on his Blackberry.

"I'm outside."

She scurried out of the house almost as soon as he sent it. He figured she might have waited for him at the window. He was right, as he was often.

For the first time, he could see why she was referred to as a baby. The one time he afforded her his attention, the day of the funeral, her grief was fresh. It had overcome her. It made her old, and her black clothing had appeared as an extension of her. Today, the sweater she wore was a deep plum. Her curls weren't wilted and waterlogged. They bounced and bobbed with her quick steps. She was…_cute_.

He sat on the hood of his car, smoking a menthol cigarette as he noticed this. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful. She wasn't even usual type- too round, too innocent. But lately, his type hadn't even really been his type. AJ wasn't checking the girl out- except, maybe, the way her hips shook as she bounded down the stairs. He was simply taking a moment to assess her.

On the many occasions where Jesse or Jake had shown him a photograph of their BG, he'd glance over it politely, barely taking in her face, with a smile of approval hiding his indifference. He maybe once or twice mentioned their "cute sister" whose name he couldn't even remember half the time, just to get a playful rise out of them and a laugh out of whoever else was present. The few occasions when he and Jillian had been in the same room, he barely even noticed her presence, too wrapped up in what he was doing. Once he had bothered to engage in some semblance of a conversation with the girl a year or so back.

"Tell her, AJ," Jake pleaded, "college is one of the _best_ experiences in a person's life."

AJ sighed quietly, "Rolling on E at a yacht party- _that's_ an experience," not bothering to look up from his blueprints.

He could feel Jake's disapproving glare and finished, "But, college is pretty cool, too."

AJ and Jillian shared a smirk before he retreated back into his work.

And thus was the extent of their connection. But that was before Jillian had become empty, and before AJ had bothered to notice how empty he was. He had a reason to pay attention, now.

"Hey," he nodded.

She seemed to be assessing him as well. This made AJ smirk.

"Hey," she replied, head down slightly.

"Ready?"

"You bet."

Her uneasiness amused him at first. This girl- who had her face buried in his armpit weeping last week, who had smoked pot with him in his car and called him so they could do it again- was timid, and polite. Her hands were folded in her lap and she stared quietly out the window, like a little lamb on her way to Sunday school. This was the girl AJ planned to ply with marijuana and alcohol. He almost felt bad, maybe for a second. He soon shook that feeling off.


	3. III

**III**

By the time their dutch had burned down to a glowing little nub, and they were halfway down a bottle of peppermint schnapps, AJ and Jillian had become fast friends. Some brightly-colored cartoon where all the characters were named after food played in the background of Jillian's life story. He had absorbed of lot of the information she spouted- about her exceptional performance in grade-school, how she lost her drive around the time high school had really begun to suck, what her roommate is like. A few pieces were lost to the hypnosis in her voice. He had stopped listening just to hear.

Her groggy head rested on AJ's lap as she mused upward, blowing her smoke in his face and inhaling his when he breathed downward toward her.

"And that's why I chose screenwriting," she continued, "My life has sucked so bad I've just been wanting to re-write it, you know? Life isn't like that. It's not a movie."

AJ sighed, barely aware that his long, pianist's fingers were weaving themselves in Jillian's curls.

"Life is _too_ much like a fucking movie," he said in between drags, "Too much shit going on."

She smiled at him.

"I bet. Your life must have been some Bruce Willis shit."

He chuckled, passing her the little bud that had become the dutch. He was careful not to drop ash on her.

"I wish I had a stunt-double. That shit gets too real sometimes."

She grinned up at his face. His perpetually-relaxed expression.

"You were the smart one, weren't you?" she asked impishly before correcting herself, "Well, I know Jake was smart, too, but you did most of the planning and stuff, right? You always looked so busy. Like you were deep in thought. Intense, but you were on top of shit."

He nodded a little, slightly put-off by the admiration in her words.

"I did a lot of the planning. Jake helped me execute a lot of it. The tech shit, wiring, stuff like that."

He really didn't want to talk about it.

"You must have gotten a lot of respect."

"We all respected each other. Trusted each other."

He felt his high slipping away.

Jillian watched him look away. Her eyes studied his jaw-line, speckled with stubble. The dimple in his chin. The almost painted-on-looking quality of his lips. His sleepy-looking eyes were big yet almond-shaped. Their blue irises looked electric.

She had taken in his features and admired them before. She had done the same with John Rahway and Gordon Cozier as well, but not nearly as intensely. They were a good-looking crew. Of course, none so much as AJ. She briefly wondered about their sixth, a man called Ghost. He was always referred to but never there.

AJ blinked, his long eyelashes bringing her wispy thoughts back to the task at hand. She was _absorbing_ his face, making an imprint of him exactly as he was in this moment: young, serene, beautiful. He could die, like her brothers. Or he could go away and she would never see him again. AJ…now _her_ friend. Now _her_ partner in crime. She never wanted to forget what he looked like.

Sometimes she forgot what her father looked like.

He caught her eye and smirked. His fingers still twisted in her curls therapeutically.

"What are you staring at me for?"

He had a feeling. "She likes you," Rahway said the week before. He didn't make claims without evidence, no matter how small. It was possible that Jillian had said something to one of her brothers who had said something to John. His head was spinning. When did this become high school? He blew that shithole when he was 16.

"You're beautiful," she giggled.

The answer shocked and puzzled him. It must have shown in his face, because they both burst into hysterical laughter. When they sobered a little, his laughed turned into a grin.

"You're beautiful, too," he smiled, looking down at her to remind himself if he meant it or not.

He did.

Though, he figured he'd change his mind by the time all the pot and alcohol had left his system, and she'd melt back into that mediocre cute.

Jillian smiled bashfully, her cocoa-colored cheeks tinting with blush. Her color was richer than her brothers'.

"I'm not…" she said softly, her head turning slightly into his stomach.

She was like a kitten. So sweet. He petted her cheek.

"Of course you are…" he replied, just as softly.

She had fallen asleep.

The pot and alcohol made AJ drowsy, but not sleepy. He wondered if he might be dreaming. He sat there, one hand still tangled in Jillian's soft, bushy hair, studying her. Her nose was what old ladies would call a button-nose. Cute, small, slightly upturned. Her lips were full and lush, the top and the bottom of almost equal proportions. Her mouth turned down slightly, so she always looked like she was pouting if she wasn't talking or smiling. He decided he still thought she was beautiful.

Her chest- her _breasts_- rose and fell with her soft breathing. They felt as soft as they looked, AJ noted as the back of his hand slid over them, and then turned to cup one gently. He felt himself get hard.

The blaring of Jillian's ringtone shook them so that his hand instantly flew away from her chest and that she awoke with a start. She didn't seem to know that she had been violated in her innocent slumber, or that her cheek rested an inch away from an erection.

She sprung up, reaching for the bulge in her pocket, pulling it out, as AJ shifted to hide his own bulge.

"Yeah mom?" she sighed groggily.

AJ listened to the lie Jillian told Mrs. Attica. Apparently, Jillian had needed to "get away" so she went for a long walk, took a cab to this nice little bed and breakfast, and booked a room. He wondered how the very Christian Mrs. Attica would die if she found out Jillian was drunk, high and had just been sleeping on an erection- one that happened to belong to her late sons' crook friend, the one with the tattoos. He came to the conclusion a heart-attack would be most likely, but a stroke was also a possibility. Maybe an aneurism.

"Mhm. I'm fine, Mom…" she groaned into the phone, "Yeah, you just woke me up… I _will_ be careful. I'm always careful. Love you, too."

She deposited the phone back into her pocket and started to recline back into his lap.

"Hey, do you want my bed?"

"Sure."

Jillian pulled herself back up. Her hair had landed on the tent in his pants. Her head just missed it.

It occurred to him that going in the room and curling beside the girl may help. It was four-thirty in the morning and he hadn't even dozed. At least, with her lying in his lap, sleep had felt like a possibility. With her and her softness so many feet away, that possibility had become gravely out of reach.

He tried to remember the last time he slept beside someone. He had _sex_ two nights before he was shot, received and given oral sex a couple times since he snuck out of the hospital (his wounds hadn't healed enough for intercourse to be more enjoyable than painful). None of those girls slept beside him. Either he left, or she left, or they both left because it was a public place. Holding Jillian had been nice. Contact for the sake of contact, not the sake of orgasm, had been nice.

He decided one more sleepless night would make no difference. As John pointed out the night of the funeral, AJ had not been himself since "what went down" which John had assured was understandable. AJ was even less like his usual self after drinking the better portion of a bottle of schnapps. If he climbed in bed with Jillian Attica tonight, he wouldn't be able to stop his hands from slipping into her panties, whether she was awake or not- whether she wanted him to or not. But he was sure she wanted him to. He could see the adoration in her eyes as she called him beautiful.

He shook it off. Whether she wanted it or not, he told himself he could _not_ fuck Baby Girl.

It was eleven in the morning and he was still telling himself that. She was still beautiful.

He looked over at her staring out the passenger's side window. It was his first time seeing her in sunlight. Her hair wasn't black, as it had appeared in the gloom of the day of the funeral, and the eerie television glow in his apartment, and the nighttime dark in between. Her curls were a dark reddish-brown. Only true sunlight could do it justice.

The wind whipped her curls, disheveled but still lovely. Her eyes were a little sleepy, even after the coffee they shared, and it gave her a dreamy quality. Like she was half-here, half-not. He appreciated her a while longer. His eyes turned back to the road.

"Thank you," she smiled over at him.

He thought for a second perhaps she had heard his thoughts about how pretty her hair was, but that was illogical.

"For what?" he asked, looking back over at her.

"Last night…" she trailed, and their eyes connected for a long appreciative moment as she continued, "It was the first night in weeks I didn't spend feeling like shit."

He almost replied, "Yeah, me too." Instead, he settled for a smile.

He had thought about kissing her the night of the funeral, while they were smoking in the car. He thought about doing more than kiss her last night, and would think about it in the shower that night. In his head was the image of him sandwiching her between his hungry body and some surface, taking her innocence. It would not get out.

'_We're takers, gents. That's what we do.'_

He thought about holes, which of her three she might let him enter. That intuition that his crew so depended on told him that she was a virgin. Jesse called it his "spidey-senses".

'_Something's tingling, all right…'_

She turned to him. They had come to a stop outside the Attica house.

"Thanks again," she smiled.

He wondered if she knew he'd undressed her and fucked her in his mind six times already.

He smiled back.

"For what?"

She shrugged sheepishly, looking away.

"I don't know. Just for being cool to me."

He could see the baby in her again. He could see what Jesse and Jake saw. He looked away, feeling like the lowest form of scum.

"You don't have to thank me."

In fact, he wished she hadn't.

_'Don't thank me for feeling your tits in your sleep…'_

"Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

He allowed his eyes to meet hers. He willed himself to say no. He saw it happen in his mind- the look of hurt and confusion and disappointment on her face as he declined and sped away for her sake. For her brothers' sake. For everyone's sake but his.

Instead, he replied, "I'd love to."


	4. IV

**IV**

AJ lay spent, his face digging into his pillow. It still smelled of Jillian's coconut-and-banana-scented curls. His body shook. There was a spasm in his left hand, causing him to squeeze the tissue in which he had expelled, turning into a tight ball. A light breeze of calm blew over his bare skin. He couldn't remember the last time he came that hard.

In the nights following his collision with death, masturbation had just been a way to relieve the pressure in his boxers. The few times his sex acts had included a partner, those experiences were just a step up from that.

He thought of Jillian. He thought of doing things to her that no one had ever done before. Things she had never even heard of. Making her feel good, yet at the same time, violating her. Frightening her. Making her love him. Making her hate him. Making her _feel it all_. They both needed so badly to let themselves feel. Inhaling her coconut scent, he drifted to sleep.

Meanwhile, across town, at Saint Francis Hospital, Jack Welles was waking up. His bedroom smelled sickly-sweet with marigolds and lilies. He wondered who in the blue hell told everyone he was a flower guy. His speckled hospital gown made him feel like a fairy, not a veteran detective.

Things were blurry. The smell made him even dizzier. The pain in his torso was excruciating. Had someone told Jack he was on morphine, he would have scoffed. He vaguely remembered being hit. How Cozier, Rahway and Rivers had been standing there on that landing strip. He watched those smug bastards speed off as he lay on the ground, blood practically shooting out of him. Cozier had been hit, though. With any luck, he was down in the hospital like Jack, and whoever recovered the quickest would be the victor.

"Unh-unh-unh!"

He had begun to sit up but the high female squeak startled him back down. His eyes traveled over to the matronly redheaded woman who was turning down the empty bed beside his.

"You just lay right there, mister. Don't move too quick, now."

Her scrubs were mottled with technicolor ice-cream cones. They made him queasy.

"How long have I been down?" he groaned.

"A whole month!"

He frowned, running his hands over the thick coating of hair on his face.

"Was I in a coma?"

"No, no, dear," she quipped cheerily, as though he had asked her for directions, "You've woken up off and on, but you weren't lucid. You wouldn't remember anything. It's a normal thing, losing as much blood as you did."

"Blood… Eddie…"

He remembered his partner's hopeless eyes for a moment. They faded into lifelessness for the second time.

"I'm sorry? Who's Eddie?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing… Anywhere I can pee?"

The woman nodded and gestured toward him.

"Go ahead, hun. Use your bedpan. It's fresh."

"Uh, no. Thanks."

Using his bed rails, Jack forced himself upright. The woman turned to him, hands on her hips. The wrinkles in her neck were completely visible. That red hair of hers _had_ to be covering grey.

"Now, really, Mr. Welles-"

"_Detective_ Welles-" he grunted.

"I don't care if you're the President. You're not Superman. I'm not trying to have you fall. I won't be able to pick you back up."

"I'm fine," he insisted, allowing his irritation to grit his voice.

She shook her red head.

"Men. Think they're invincible. Like that young man who ran outta here last month. Probably rotting away from infection right now. Nothing can be _that_ urgent-"

"Wait," he slumped back down, "a man ran out of here without being discharged?"

She nodded her head, making her neck-flap shake.

"Mhm. Like a damn fool, excuse my language."

"Cozier…"

His jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry?"

"Hand me that phone."

AJ rolled on his side. The sunlight was interrupting his sleep. He pulled the covers over his head. He would not allow his dream to ripped from him… Already, the soft, bushiness of Jillian's hair had faded into the duvet.

"No…" he sighed to himself.

Pained. Defeated.

In his dream, AJ had been lying in a hole in the ground. His wounds were all open, fresh, still burning. He was dying, looking up through the mouth of this ditch- his _grave_. Until he felt lips tracing the holes in his stomach and chest. He looked down at the curly mane as Jillian bobbed back and forth…drinking his blood? No…

She spat a bullet from her mouth, letting it drop beside AJ's bare hip. She flashed him a blood-stained grin before going down again, removing another bullet with her mouth, almost vacuuming it out. And then another, until they were gone, and he was healed. As good as new.

"Thank you," he whispered to her with tears in his eyes.

She wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, grinning once more.

"For what?"

And his penis was inside her mouth.

"Fucking, piece of shit blinds."

He chucked his pillow at the window coverings that had failed him, and dragged himself out of bed. Crestfallen, he made his way to the shower.

By now, Gordon was in the Caribbean with his sister, sipping sweet rum drinks. John was in Tokyo picking up tiny Japanese girls who looked like Sailor Moon. And here AJ was… jerking off in the shower.

Again.

He had become an expert at blocking out Jake and Jesse's faces. Their caskets. Their weeping Christian mother. It amazed him how guilt-free his ritual had become. After all, it wasn't like he pinned Jillian down and raped her every night.

_'It's a harmless fucking fantasy. How many dead guys' sisters or daughters have they beat their meat to?'_

He hadn't called Jillian, and she hadn't called him either. The distance was safe. Comfortable. He did miss the contact… Her head against his thighs, his hand tangled in her hair. The time and OxyContin had dulled his memory of Jillian into a dreamlike image. Sometimes he questioned if he had invented her- a hallucination- the sad girl at the funeral, who was as empty as he. Who thought he was beautiful. Part of him wished he had made her up. That she was a coma dream, and he lay dying on that hotel floor. He couldn't ruin her if she wasn't real. The Attica brothers were alive then. Maybe he was dying and they were still alive.

As he recalled, John looked as though he had seen a ghost when AJ showed up on his doorstep. AJ smirked as he toweled off, thinking that maybe that's what John thought he was at first. Everyone had thought him dead, as John explained. According to the protocol that AJ himself had suggested, they left him. AJ wasn't bitter. They had done the same to Ghost in '04. Somebody at the hotel must have dialed 9-1-1 in the midst of the shooting, they decided together. A moment later, John frowned.

"What, do you have a death wish or something? What the hell are you doing out of the hospital? It's been a week!"

"That's what I came here to tell you, man."

AJ took him through the events of the morning. He woke up, "feeling like shit that got run over by a car" as he put it to John. His eyes were still closed, so whoever he'd heard talking- a cop and a doctor or a cop and a nurse- assumed that he was still unconscious.

"When Mr. Jeffries comes-to, I want to be the first to know…" the man had said before lowering his voice, "I'll have a few questions for him."

A female voice replied, "Of course. But keep in mind, we're not sure when that would be. It's a miracle the young man is alive."

When the door closed, AJ ripped the monitors from his chest. He removed the clips from his finger. Yanked the IV from his arm and headed toward the room closet. They had discarded his bullet-torn and blood-soaked clothing, but in a small plastic bag were his wallet and his hat.

However, his roommate, an elderly man with a nose-tube, had a bag of clothing in his closet that would do fine for the time being.

John interrupted AJ's retelling with a chortle.

"You stole clothes from an old man? No wonder you look like Bill Cosby right now."

AJ rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Yet I'd _still_ get more ass than you."

"Yeah, there's plenty of that going around in prison. Let me call G so we can figure this shit out. The plan was to get the fuck out of dodge anyway, but he's on the mend."

"He was hit?"

"Not bad, but yeah, he was hit. Plus there's the funerals."

"Funerals? What funerals?"

He'd hobbled out of the cab in front of his secondary residence, which he rented precisely for this sort of occasion. If he believed in curses and hoodoo, he might have said he jinxed himself, renting that hide-out. But he was too smart for that.

He half-crawled up the stairs. He didn't feel triumphant, like a man who had beat death. He felt like he _cheated_ it, which would be fine had it been a casino, or even the judiciary system. But he won while Jake and Jesse Attica lost. Jesse, barely twenty-two, and Jake…

AJ was there the night Jake proposed to Lily. He had provided the "ambience" as Jake put it when he approached him with the request. AJ didn't really get love and marriage. He was a logician. A cynic. But that night, he didn't question it. Jake and Lily were so happy that he could do nothing but grin at the piano keys. He told himself that it was his piano playing that tipped the scale in Jake's favor. For that night, he fancied himself Cupid.

He laughed at his reflection in the mirror.

"Fucking Cupid… Jacking off in the shower. Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

He studied his face.

_'Beautiful, my ass.'_

He looked tired. Defeated. A far cry from the kid in the sharp white suit drinking a tequila sunrise, shouting to a row of yachts, "Life's looking pretty good from right here!"

Life looked like shit. He looked like shit. And his phone had been ringing for two minutes.

"Jillian?" he rasped into the receiver.

Who else could it be?

"Jillian? Oy, don't tell me you're fuckin' around with 'er. Jesus Christ, is that why you're still in the country?"

"G," he croaked, "I thought there'd be no contact."

"It's good to hear your voice, too, mate."

"That's not what I meant. I'm just surprised is all."

"I hope this isn't an inopportune time."

"It's not."

"Good, because I'd keep talkin' anyway. What's keeping you in LA?"

"I don't know, man."

He was dazed and didn't have the energy to answer the question, even for himself.

Gordon came out with it.

"Rahway's worried about you."

"Oh, so you guys talk about me? What the fuck, are you my guidance counselor?"

"He says you're not yourself. _Obviously_ he's right. You came up with this whole thing, man. Leave the country for separate countries. Last month, you would have been the first one on a plane."

AJ sighed, running his hand over his neck.

"A lot of shit has happened since last month, G."

"What's happened is fucked up and don't I know it. But don't let it shut you down. Look… Jake and Jesse wouldn't want you to-"

"How do you know what Jake and Jesse wouldn't want? Are you the ghost-whisperer?"

"All right, then, you cheeky fucker, forget I said anything. Last time I try to be a friend to you. I just wanted to tell you to put some fire under it, all right? You don't want to be hangin' about. At least get out of the city."

"Yeah. Will do."

He heard a beep.

"Yeah, I mean, you really ought to think about-"

"Hey, G, can you call me back, man? It's my other line."

"It's your fuckin' other- Go on. Just wear a rubber."

"Later, man."

He clicked over.

"Hey, you."

It was Jillian. She sounded like she was smiling.

"Hey…"

"Is this a bad time?"

He fell back on the bed, pretending his pulse wasn't thundering, pretending he didn't tingle from head to foot- that her voice didn't pitch a tent in his towel.

"No, not at all. What's up?"

"The probate attorney came over today."

He sighed. Everything always had to go back to her brothers.

"Oh, yeah? How'd that go?"

"Well, Jesse didn't have a will. Of course. But Jake did. He left Lily the club, but since she's… since it can't go to her, it goes to my mom and I. She wanted to sell it. Doesn't want any part of it."

He mumbled, "I can imagine," imagining the look on her face when offered ownership of such a place.

"Huh?"

"I said 'what's gonna happen to it?' Are you gonna sell it?"

"After a shouting-match, she told me that if I wanted to keep it in the family so badly, she would sign it over to me."

"Can you handle all that? With college? I thought you were going back next year," he inquired, recalling their last conversation."

She paused.

"Actually, that's what I was calling to ask you about. I was thinking… Maybe… We could share it. Since you live here. If you were interested."

His mind filled with so many thoughts that they exploded, leaving him blank and numb. Jillian spoke quickly, nervously, when she didn't receive a response.

"It would be a steady paycheck. It would be legit. You wouldn't have to…you know… after what's happened. Chico still manages it. I told him Jake would want business to go on as usual. You're the smartest person I know, and-"

"Jillian," he said finally.

"Yeah?"

"Meet me tonight, at the club. We'll talk about it, okay?"

The calm in his voice soothed her. Unbeknownst to her his palms were sweating bullets.

"Okay."

"Nine-ish?"

She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her.

"Nine-ish is good. Thanks."

He wished she'd stop thanking him.

"No problem."

They hung up at the same time. AJ rolled over, looking at his closed closet. He left most of his nice clothes at his condo. The loft was just for emergencies.

He threw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, his black loafers, and his blazer. He remembered his black porkpie hat just before hastening through the door.

He needed a suit.


	5. V

**V**

AJ handed his keys to the valet, slipped him a twenty and took a step back to get a good look at the façade of the building.

_'Business as usual.'_

There wasn't a bullet hole or a blood stain to be found. He knew it wouldn't make sense for Jillian to agree to meet him at an official crime scene with police tape around it. However, he didn't expect it to be so lively. The line outside the door had grown if anything.

'_You'd never know three people died here a month ago.' _

The music at the club had a way of being uncomfortably loud when AJ wasn't drunk. He thought maybe he was hung-over, or experiencing withdrawal, coming down from his steady stream of alcohol. He hadn't had a drink since the night before. He hadn't eaten, either. He shrugged off the light tugging in his stomach, examining himself in the reflection of a window. He looked so good, maybe even the sober Jillian would think he was beautiful.

He squeezed his way through grinding pairs, gyrating women, men carrying drinks, ready to throw a right hook if someone so much as shed a hair on his crisp black suit. He nodded a greeting at Peanut, the bouncer that blocked the staircase the led to Jake's upstairs lounge. AJ never could decide whether the nickname was meant to be ironic, or because the man was the size of an elephant.

"AJ, my man. Good to see you."

The words boomed in his barrel-chest as they shook hands. At 6'2", AJ still had to crane his neck to see the man's face.

"You too, man. I'm meeting someone upstairs."

"Baby Girl?"

AJ cringed. Was he the only person in the world who referred to her as Jillian?

"Yeah."

"She's already up there. Go on up."

Peanut released the velvet rope and AJ scooted past him, bounding up the stairs. He checked his pace around the top stair. He didn't want to seem desperate- that's why he had omitted the bowtie.

The carpet was new, as was some of the furniture around the bar.

Jillian sat in one of the single armchairs, a decanter of scotch and an empty glass in front of her on the coffee table. Her eyes looked slightly glazed-over. It took her a while to realize that AJ had entered the room. She wasn't drunk, but she was relaxed.

"Hey," she smiled, eyes trailing over him, "Someone looks spiffy."

He smirked at her approval, taking her in as well.

In her leggings, plaid tunic and purple Chucks, she was the most desirable woman he had seen all night. The gyrating women downstairs had dolled themselves up, piled on make-up, sucked it in, let it hang out, and they still couldn't touch _her_.

He hadn't had a drink in something like twenty hours and she was even more beautiful without the booze goggles.

"Thanks. So do you."

She scoffed, getting up to grab him a glass.

"Thank you," she smirked, "but I look like a bum."

"You look…" he stopped to choose his words, "lovely. I like your sneakers. Favorite color, right?"

He grinned, leaning against the wall, arms folded.

"One of them," she nodded, pouring his scotch, "You're a quick learner."

As she handed him the glass, their skin made contact, as did their eyes. He wet his lips with the drink and then his tongue.

"Hell of a teacher, too."

She looked away, smiling as she made her way back to her chair. AJ was mesmerized by the motion of her soft, plump body.

"I bet."

He sat on the end of the couch closest to her, removing his hat and sitting it on his lap, concealing what was forming in his newly-tailored pants.

"So, business," she smiled, clearing her throat.

"Business," he nodded, his eyes still tracing her features.

"The plan is for me to head back to school in the fall. I'd fly out here on breaks and in the summer to take care of things, if you handle them while I'm in Philadelphia. And we could keep very close phone-contact so that we both know what's going on. It would only be for two more years. Just until I graduate. I'm making up the credits I'm missing next year so that I can graduate on time. Then I'll move back here."

AJ stroked his chin. He was supposed to be leaving the country.

"What would my cut be?" he asked, though he could care less.

"Fifty percent. We would be partners all the way."

The girl was terrible at business.

_'You never offer half. Never gridlock yourself like that.'_

She needed him.

With a nod, the considerations rolled around in his mind. He sipped his scotch.

"I'll think about it. I'll get back to you soon, there's just some things I have to mull over."

She poured herself another drink.

"I know I'm not the ideal business partner-"

"It's not that at all. Don't sell yourself short," he frowned, shaking his head.

She scoffed, "Trust me, I'm not."

"Really, it's bad for business."

He cracked a smile, and they erupted into laughter.

"See?" she grinned, sipping from her glass, "I need you."

AJ chewed his lip.

"Apparently," he laughed, "but I'm flattered you came to me. Really."

Jillian smiled at him with that sweet, adoring look. AJ remembered the last time she gave him that look. She had told him he was beautiful. She had been drinking then, too.

"It just makes sense, you know. You know this place better than I do. Jake hated me to set foot in here."

He leaned forward in his chair.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jillian? After what happened here?"

She stood, looking at her shoes.

"Jake loved this place. He and Lily basically shared it. This was their chance at going it straight and being able to have a family that didn't have to run from cops and dodge bullets."

He watched her cross the room and pick up a wooden picture frame. He stood and peered over her shoulder. Inside the frame was a photo of the whole Attica family: John Attica, who looked like a forty-something Jake with darker skin; a younger, less stiff Jolene Attica; a teenage Jake, beaming in a Lakers jersey; Jesse, at about seven years old (AJ could see why Jake called him "biscuit-head"); and Jillian in the very center. She was about four or five, and her thick curls were twisted into intricate little braids, decorated with colorful barrettes. She was chubby, like a little, brown, female Buddha, and she was flashing almost all of her tiny little teeth.

_'This must have been how they saw her all the way up until they died.'_

He didn't know what to say other than, "You all look so happy."

His words were followed immediately by a pained little cry, and several tears pattering on the glass of the frame.

"Jillian…"

His arms snaked around her middle, holding her tight to him, rocking her softly. He took the frame from her hands and placed it back on the bureau, face down. His cheek brushed hers as he squeezed her. She was so soft.

She leaned back into AJ, succumbing to his embrace before something in her- propriety, fear, awareness of his erection (he couldn't tell which) caused her to free herself from his arms and search for a tissue box.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, ripping through cabinets and drawers, mumbling to herself, "Where are the goddamn Kleenex?"

He caught her by the shoulders, leaning down to meet her face. For a moment, they were both sure he was going to kiss her. His voice was almost a whisper.

"You don't need to be sorry…"

She jumped at the sensation of the silky material against her face. She had been looking into his eyes so deeply that she didn't notice when he reached inside his breast pocket and removed his handkerchief.

He dabbed away her tears, tempted to instead kiss them away. To trail his tongue down the salty streaks that ran down her round cheeks... He decided against it.

She smiled softly.

"Thank you."

His lips kissed the soft, smooth skin of her cheek- gently, but it made a tiny puckering sound. The silence resonated between them and he moved away.

"Here, let me top you off."

He started to add more whiskey to her glass but she shook her head.

"No. Thanks. That stuff tastes like ass, I just needed a drink. Delia _still_ refuses to serve me at the bar. It's not like I'll be twenty-one in six months or anything."

She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.

"Don't worry about Delia. What do you want?"

"Slow Jim Fizz?" she smiled hopefully.

He teased, "Chick drink…"

"All right then, what are you having?"

"A kamikaze."

"Well, then, I'll have two."

AJ shook his head, laughing.

"I'll have to carry you home."

"Mister, I will drink you under the table," she challenged with a feisty smirk.

"We'll see about that."

Not only did AJ procure the drinks, but he did so for free. He tried to hand Delia a bill, but the middle-age Latina woman pushed it back at him.

"You and your pals always drank here for free. That won't change as long as I tend this bar."

"Thanks, D," he winked.

"Any time, cutie."

She'd always had a crush on him.

Jillian accepted her first drink with a smile and a "Thank you kindly, good sir."

He chuckled, thinking aloud, "You're adorable."

Jillian threw back her shot without flinching.

"Am I still?"

He stepped closer, daring her.

"Yep."

Her hand brushed his longer than necessary- _deliberately_ as she reached for her second shot and threw it back. She sat down her empty glasses, grabbing his hand.

"Let's dance!"

AJ gulped his shot, in no position to protest.

"Lead the way."

For the first few songs, AJ nodded his head to the rhythm, shuffling from side to side a bit if he was enjoying the music. His eyes never left Jillian, unless he was making a quick run to the bar. She danced like a good girl trying to be bad, he noted- rolling her hips, dipping and popping her body, but not allowing herself to succumb completely to the sexuality in the atmosphere. However, he did appreciate the fact that she had begun to lose herself, at least a little. She was a good dancer. Enthusiastic- like she _needed_ to move. It didn't take much effort to make her body jiggle and do delicious things. He was a grateful spectator.

"Oh come on, you're not dancing!" she shouted over the music.

"You're doing enough for the both of us!" he chuckled, nodding a little.

The song switched. He could tell by the exaggerated enthusiasm in her face that the shots were kicking in.

"Oh my God! I told them to play this song! This is an East Coast song! I told the DJ about this song last year!"

The rhythm of the song was booming and repetitive, almost like the pounding of a headache. Its few words were spoken over and over, dubbed over each other. It wasn't his cup of tea, but Jillian seemed to love it- so much that her dancing had begun to change. She started to succumb. It seemed to be about riding a wave.

She made her torso rippled quickly as the singer told her to ride the wave. She obeyed. The song told her to look to the left and slow it down, and she had begun to wind in a way made AJ want to grab her and hold her writhing body against him as she acted out the song's commands. A couple people stopped to watch. A couple men. He could have killed them.

The voice in the song starting saying either "don't" or "donk" over and over again, mechanically so. He figured it must have been "donk" by the way Jillian was shaking her ass.

The song ended, and his heart almost broke. But it seemed to make no difference to Jillian. She continued to move in her seductive no-holds-barred manner. Mesmerizing him without even knowing it. She was barely aware that he was still standing there. She was barely aware that a large black guy had come up behind her, gripped her hips, and bumped himself against her ass- _AJ's_ ass.

What set him off was when Jillian began to lean into it, bending over and grinding against him. AJ scowled.

_'You didn't even turn around and see what an ugly fuck he is.'_

It was all he could stand. He walked up to the guy.

"Excuse me, but I was dancing with the young lady."

"Yeah, and now I'm dancin' wit 'er. Sorry, playa. This too much woman for you."

The ugly man was staring down at how her ass looked against his thrusting crotch. AJ smirked a little.

"You have about half a second to move."

"Or what, white boy?"

AJ reached inside his jacket and smiled politely.

"Or I'll blow your fucking balls off, Divo. Stick around and see if I'm bluffing."

The large man, an inch taller than AJ and roughly sixty pounds heavier, shifted away quicker than anyone would think his heft would allow.

"Fuck it, bruh. She's all yours. She ain't even that cute."

Jillian was still, for the most part, oblivious. AJ took his place, wrapping his arms tenderly around Jillian, riding her motions closely, expertly. She turned her head toward him, still grinding.

"Hey, you!" she grinned.

"Hey, you…" he smiled, caressing her curves as they danced.

"Where'd that other guy go?"

"I asked him if I could cut in. Told him I was sorry to be rude but I couldn't let the night get away without at least one dance with the most beautiful woman in the club. He was cool with it. Think he went to go find his girlfriend."

She grinned, "You're a better dancer anyway," rolling her body more as his hands roved over it, "Who knew, white boy?"

He chuckled.

"Well, I am a quarter Spanish…"

She laughed loudly. He could smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Bullshit. It's because all your friends are black!" said, cackling at her own joke.

AJ smirked and shook his head, effortlessly keeping up with her rhythm. This kind of dancing was just an inch of fabric away from sex.

"Rahway's not."

"Rahway doesn't count, he likes black girls!" she said with her drunken logic.

His lips brushed against her neck.

"So do I…"

She grinned, leaning into the feel of his kissing and sucking. She thought of nothing but the rhythm and how good it felt.

He continued, "You are so beautiful, Jillian…" as his tongue slid up and down the skin of her neck, "Let me take you home…"

She giggled, "I can't go home like this. Mom would kill me."

"_My_ home…" he breathed against her ear, sliding his hand between her soft thighs.

"Mmmm…" she moaned,"Okay…"

AJ would just pick up his car tomorrow. He had been drinking, and tonight would not be the night he'd crash his car.

He handed the cabbie a fifty and told him, "Don't turn around."

His hungry lips made loud suctioning noises against hers, against her neck and her cleavage. Her skin tasted sweet as his mind raced with all the ways he would ravish her tonight.

The elastic in her leggings hugged his hands even closer to her soft, wet heat. His fingers tangled her wet, bushy pubic hair. This was the very first time he had found it attractive.

'_Why would she need to shave? She's as innocent as a little lamb.'_

She was almost half-asleep in the back of the cab, doing little to respond to his touch except moan and grow wetter, maybe writhe slightly on occasion, then, shake as she climaxed on his fingers. They repeated this cycle thrice in the thirty minutes between the club and AJ's apartment.

Jillian had much more trouble climbing the stairs than he did.

AJ didn't have the patience to lead her to the bedroom. They collapsed on top of the couch. His hand tangled through her curls as he sucked her lips, his free hand half-undoing, half-popping her buttons. He slurped at her supple cleavage, groaning and panting.

'_God… this is really happening. It's really happening…'_

She rolled around on the couch and moaned, giggling slightly. She spoke in a sudden whisper.

"_AJ! Can I tell you a secret?_"

He slurped at her belly-button.

"Tell me all your secrets, baby..."

She giggled, whispering, "_I'm a virgin…_"

He looked up at her innocent, cherubic face. So round and soft. Not a far cry from how it had looked in that picture.

"Goddamn it," he cursed at himself, pulling himself up, sitting near her feet.

His hands ran through his hair.

"What's wrong?"

She sat up. Her left breast was popping out of her bra. She was frowning, looking hurt.

"Nothing's wrong, Jillian. I just- I can't do this. Not now."

"Wh-what did I do?" she slurred, touching his arm.

He stood.

"Nothing. It's not you. You're perfect."

She looked as though she might cry.

"No, I'm not… Is it because I'm fat? It is, isn't it?"

Her question shook him. It took him by surprise.

"What?"

He had never thought of her as fat. Before he got to know her, he hadn't even really considered her body type enough to arrive at a conclusion. At the funeral, all he could see was her grief, and the times after that, Jillian had not looked anything less than attractive to him. But he looked over her half-naked body, which did come with a good amount of padding. He had _squeezed_ that padding. It comforted him. He needed to feel it bare, beneath him.

However, he couldn't deny that if he didn't have bullet holes in his body, and if two of his only friends hadn't been gunned down- if he were still on top of the world, then, _yes_, he would have thought she was fat.

She pulled her shirt around herself, the shame visible in her face.

"Jillian- _no_. You're beautiful. You're so beautiful…" he sighed, knowing there would come a time where he'd kick himself for being Mr. Nice Guy.

He sat beside her again and continued, "I just can't. You had a lot to drink. _I gave you_ a lot to drink. I can't do this with you tonight. I'm sorry. I just can't. Out of respect for your brothers, and out of respect for you."

"But I want you to…"

She grabbed his hand, stroking it. She looked pitiful. He turned to her.

"Then sleep it off. If you really want me, Jillian, go in my room and crash, and if you still want me in the morning, I'm yours."

He felt like he was stabbing himself in the gut.

"You promise?" she asked, pouting a little.

"Scout's honor," he smiled softly.

He felt like crying.

"Okay…" she relented.

He hoisted her from the couch and led the wobbling girl to his bed. She could barely lift her legs onto the mattress, so he lifted them for her. He spread the cover over her and kissed her lips one last time.

For all he knew, it _was_ the last time.

"AJ…" she whispered softly.

"Yeah, babe?" he replied, kneeling beside the bed.

"Cuddle with me? Please?"

"Of course."

He slipped in beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle, inhaling her coconut-and-banana shampoo. He didn't know how he could possibly sleep with a throbbing erection. He thought about dead puppies… old ladies taking out their dentures…Roseanne Barr… Crohn's disease… his parents… how a bill becomes a law… Lastly, he thought about holes.

He felt it go limp.


	6. VI

**VI**

He sat upright, head cocked against the headboard. His eyes hadn't left the peacefully slumbering Jillian for the past two hours. He would zone out occasionally, his mind floating around while his eyes remained fixed on her. Mainly, he replayed the night before: What Jillian's body felt like pressed against him, how exciting it had been to have her wet heat clamped around his fingers. For that hour or so, AJ had forgotten that he should have been dead.

He had dozed off and on that night, but it could hardly be called sleep. Holding Jillian- her soft, steady breathing- had lulled and soothed him. As mental images began to swirl their way into dreams, he saw the brothers Jake and Jesse, torn apart and mutilated by gun-spray… Yet somehow they still walked- _toward him_. No matter how slow they slinked or how fast he ran, they were always right behind him, grey and rotting, grabbing at his shirt.

He realized he was running toward Jillian. She stood in the middle of the street, draped in white. A spotlight (from heaven?) shone down on her, her arms outstretched to him. By the time he reached her, the walking remains of Jake and Jesse had disappeared.

Their arms wrapped around each other's bodies, standing cheek to cheek. He whispered in dream-Jillian's ear.

"You saved me…"

He savored the embrace a long moment, before wondering why it suddenly felt like there was a piece of deli ham against his cheek. He pulled his face away from Jillian, taking with it a strip of her decaying cheek.

There she stood, rotting and grey. Her white frock, which AJ realized was an old-fashioned, beaded wedding gown, was torn and blotted with blood. It glugged from holes in her body like red maple syrup.

He backed away, wiping her flesh and sticky blood from his face.

"Oh, God!"

She cocked her head, batting her cataract eyes.

"Is it because I'm fat?"

AJ jumped from his sleep sweating and palpitating. He glanced beside him at the real world Jillian, who was curled up, sleeping like a baby. His jarring did not cause her to so much as stir. His eyes remained fixed upon her even as he groped for and lit a cigarette. He was convinced that she could turn into the undead version of herself at any moment. By the third hour of his vigil, AJ had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Jack, I didn't come to discuss work. Please, just accept the damn flowers and talk about something else. You're on medical leave."

The chief's voice was stern, yet exasperated. He and Jack had been going back and forth the entire seven minutes he had been in the room.

"I'm just trying to help. Let me talk to Munoz. I had these guys by the balls. These goddamn quacks won't tell me anything."

"That's because you're not on the case anymore. It's not any of your concern."

Jack's face fell into a frown, and then into a growl as realization washed over him.

"Did you tell them to clam up to me?"

"You need to worry about recovering-"

"Don't side-step the question, damn it! After I cornered-"

"Listen, Welles, you may be laid up, but goddamn it, I won't be talked to like that! I am the GODDAMN chief, and YOU answer to ME! That is, if you still want a job when you get outta here."

Jack was quiet a long while. He felt like a little boy who had been put in his place. Chief Duncan instantly felt remorse.

"Look, Jack. I know this case means a lot to you-"

"Hatcher died on this case. One of those sons of bitches _shot_ him. I want to take 'em down. _All_ of 'em- every last one- starting with ring-fucking-leader, Cozier."

The chief sighed, shaking his head.

"I wasn't going to tell you this… Keep in mind, you're off this case. I mean it, Jack. You're one of my best men and I'm not gonna have you doing anything stupid."

"Absolutely. What'd want to tell me, chief?"

The older man sighed, sitting in the chair beside Jack's bed.

"We checked out your tip about Cozier. He never checked into this hospital."

Welles exhaled sharply, rubbing his face.

"Well, fuck me. Dead end. No shit."

"Not quite," Duncan interjected, watching Jack's face perk slightly, "Haggerty called the other day to check on this kid who was found shot up in a hotel room full of dead Russians with guns."

"The Russians that were connected to Rivers?"

"Possibly. We're not sure yet."

"Okay, well did he get anything out of the kid?"

Duncan shook his head, and lifted it to look at Jack.

"He hauled ass a week after he got bussed here from the Roosevelt hotel. They didn't even know he was out of his coma. He was dead for two minutes or something like that. He'd been gone for weeks before we found out. The doctor that was _supposed_ to be keeping us posted went on maternity leave. Early labor or some foolishness."

"Son of a bitch," Jack muttered, shaking his head, "What was the kid's name?"

"His driver's license said 'August Jeffries.' The address they took down, a condo, was abandoned with all his stuff in it- excluding anything that could incriminate him, connect him to Cozier's gang, or lead to his whereabouts. Of course."

"We don't have enough to pin him, even if we could find him-"

"_Munoz and Barker_ don't have enough. This isn't your case anymore, Jack-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You know what I mean. I'm out of it, okay?"

"Okay."

There was a silence between them that lasted a long moment. Jack forced a smile.

"Thank you again, for the flowers. They're nice."

'_I'm not out of this by a long shot.'_

Duncan nodded, returning the smile. It was just as forced.

'_By God, he's gonna do something stupid, isn't he?'_

"Marguerite picked them out. Said you looked like a begonia man."

They tried to chuckle away the awkwardness but it wouldn't leave.

"I'm, uh… I'm gonna let you get your rest, Jack," the chief nodded as he rose.

The men shook hands.

"Thanks for coming by."

"Any time, any time… Get better. We need you."

As the door closed behind chief Duncan, Jack thought aloud, "Oh yeah, trust me- I know."

He groped his bed-side table for his phone. He dialed, got a voicemail box. He cleared his throat.

"Munoz. This is Welles. Listen, give me a call when you can. We may be able to help each other out…"

* * *

"AJ…AJ!"

Jillian's frantic shaking pulled him out of a dreamless sleep. He was under the impression he had only closed his eyes. Jillian had the covers hugged around her open top as she leaned over, nudging his arm. AJ frowned. His head was throbbing.

"What did we do last night? Oh, God, what happened?" she moaned, resting her head on palm before turning to him, "Do you remember?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. We were both pretty fucked up, though."

"Did we have sex?"

He shook his head, not knowing how to feel about the panic in her voice.

_'Would it have been that terrible if we had?'_

"No. Just fooled around a little, I think," he yawned, though he vividly remembered exactly what transpired.

She sighed in relief, rubbing her face with both hands.

"Thank God…"

He swallowed the punched-in-the-gut feeling he was experiencing.

"Thanks…"

Jillian turned to him. Her remorse showed on her face.

"Oh, God, no. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that-"

He waved it away.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," she shook her head, "I'm a bitch. I'm sorry. I'm not myself yet. It'll wear off-"

His hand rested on the section of the duvet that was raised by her knee, and rubbed gently.

"You're not even close to a bitch. I understand. Completely. Really, it's fine."

She chuckled, but it was doleful. She hid her face in her hands. AJ silently prayed Jillian wasn't crying.

"God… Some business meeting, huh?"

AJ couldn't help but smirk as he remembered her grinding body…the back of the cab…

"It was certainly something…" he said softly, turning toward her, waiting for her expression to change, "You're one hell of a dancer."

She laughed a little, chewing her lip. AJ watched her, considering asking her if she remembered the offer he made the night before. He quickly decided against it.

"Thanks," she sighed before turning to him,"…You know… We don't have to pretend this isn't awkward. I know I fucked up-"

"I told you, don't worry about it. We danced a little and made out."

AJ frowned at the seriousness in Jillian's face. He couldn't understand why she was acting as though what happened between them was a serious transgression...and he had only told her the watered-down version.

_'It was just some making out and a little finger-action. Jesus Christ. You'd lose your shit if you knew what I _really_ wanted to do to you…'_

"If I were you, I wouldn't want to see me again…"

She rose, closing her top as best as she could, turning away her face in shame.

"_Of course_ I want to see you again," he half-pleaded.

Jillian turned around, arms folded across her missing buttons, a curious look on her face. AJ hated the desperation in his voice. He was never without a poker-face. But, he knew that if he let Jillian Attica walk out of his apartment, she would never come back. Her shame would not let her. Her innocence would not let her. He had to keep her. Last night, she'd said she needed him.

AJ needed her to need him.

He continued, "I mean, we're gonna _have_ to see each other again, right? If we're gonna be _partners_…"

Jillian's face lit up, causing AJ's to do the same. Her round cheeks were aglow with the sunlight that streamed in through AJ's venetian blinds. She looked like a dream.

"Really? You still want to go into business with me?"

He nodded.

"I mean…Yeah. I've been thinking about it- the things we can do with the place…" he rose, waxing feigned enthusiasm, "We could make it the hottest nightclub in LA. We've got the means, we just need the creativity- and we are two very creative people, you and I. I mean, a girl who wears purple sneakers- she's gotta have some good ideas cooking up there."

They shared a grin. Lost in her excitement, Jillian forgot that half her buttons were missing. She lifted her arms to push her hair back, her face still wild with the possibilities. AJ was skillful at pretending not to stare.

"Jake and Lily were trying to get the old dance studio next door. We could turn it into a banquet hall- rent it out. We could make a mint!"

"See? The sneakers don't lie."

They chuckled, but Jillian soon sobered.

"I mean, of course, the money Jake left me is enough to buy the place. It may take a while to fund the renovations…"

AJ's eyes fell to black strap that peeked out from under his bed. The black strap was attached to a large duffle bag. That bag contained ten-million dollars.

AJ wet his lips before they curled into a lopsided smile.

"Don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart. It's taken care of."


End file.
